


Sarah

by MMXIII



Series: abo fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Baby, Domestic, Like very niche, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Niche domestic tho, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega Verse, Parenthood, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMXIII/pseuds/MMXIII
Summary: It's still dark when he blinks awake, early enough that there's no light filtering through at the edges of the windows, no traffic out on the street.[An abo parenthood microfic bc #lockdown2020]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: abo fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737298
Comments: 21
Kudos: 274





	Sarah

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, this is tagged ABO because it’s a sequel to another half-written thing in which Steve gets knocked up…   
> Yea  
> Lockdown makes you do weird thingss

It’s still dark when he blinks awake, early enough that there’s no light filtering through at the edges of the windows, no traffic out on the street. It’s raining outside, but it’s a soft sound, a gentle wash of white noise that barely registers as anything at all. The heating murmurs overhead, barely audible, muffled by the fabric of the building. The bedroom is warm, quiet. He rolls over drowsily and settles back down under the blankets. 

Beside him, Steve’s out completely. Prone on his front with one arm curled over his head. Even in the dark he looks tired, whole body loose and heavy - perfectly still.

Bucky tucks in closer and closes his eyes.   
Steve’s nursing: he smells of milk. 

As if on cue, there’s a soft rustle from the corner of the room. There’s a beat of silence, then another rustle followed by a small fussy whimper.

Bucky tilts his head fractionally.

Seconds later the sounds deteriorate into a loud hiccuping cry.

Steve stirs under the bedclothes, sluggish and uncoordinated, dredging himself up.

Bucky reaches out and squeezes his nape gently.

  
‘I got it,’ he murmurs. ‘Steve.’

Steve makes a low, raspy noise of acknowledgement and subsides.

Bucky pulls back the covers and gets out of bed.

He reaches into the cot in the corner of the bedroom and carefully lifts out a small, fussy bundle.

She's warm and soft in her onesie; she smells just like Steve.

Bucky settles her over his good shoulder, tucking her blanket around her so she's all bundled up. She's so small his hand spans her whole back.

He's still learning the sounds of her different cries: tired, sad, uncomfortable, lonely.

He doesn't think she's hungry; Steve fed her just half an hour ago, sat up sleepily in their bed with his soft, loose tshirt rucked up, holding her closely against his chest. Bucky’d watched them drowsily, gold in the light of the bedside lamp; the soft snuffling and suckling sounds had sent him halfway back to sleep. 

  
She cries harder as he slips out of the bedroom, pulling the door to behind him.

‘I know,’ Bucky murmurs, rubbing her little back gently as she wails, ‘but you gotta let him sleep. He’s worn out, Baby. He’s all worn out.’

  
Steve's hardly slept a whole night through since she was born, body in overdrive, still healing. He can barely keep his eyes open during the day. Buck's strong, tired O.

  
Bucky rocks her very softly and moves into the lounge. Her cries devolve into little whimpers as he circles the room. He keeps stroking her back. 

'Lotta noise for such a small person,' he murmurs, 'we got a mutual friend like that.'

His tiny charge hiccups up some milk—Steve’s milk—and makes an unhappy noise.  
Bucky wipes her mouth with the corner of the blanket and folds it over.

'I'll allow he's mellowed a little.'

She sighs wetly like she's agreeing with him.

  
He cups her little head in his palm and thumbs at her downy hair. At three weeks old she’s started to turn her head to look at him when he’s talking. He can’t wait til she’s old enough for a bottle, then he can feed her too.

  
Mostly she sleeps. In her cot, on the couch, with Steve, in Bucky’s arms, in the little blanket-nests he makes for her. Steve's pup. Sarah.

Her tiny fingers flex against the neck of his tshirt. He can feel her little chest expanding against the front of his shoulder. She lets out a little yawn and he smiles, he can't help it.

'Just wanted some company, hmm?'

**Author's Note:**

> How's everyone's lockdowns going? :)


End file.
